“Put it into the palm of your hand, and blow it toward your sails. The magic will do the rest. Just head to the second star from the right, and sail straight on until morning.” Lucinda narrowed her eyes at him. “I sense you have a question, James, something to do with my daughter.”

“Do you think she will be very cross with me for going back on my word?”

“You leave Circe to me,” she said.

“But she is Queen of the Dead,” he said, regretting his betrayal, but there was no way around it. Circe said it wasn’t within her power to give him his secret wish, the one hidden deep within his heart, the thing he wanted even more than finding Never Land. But he couldn’t help but feel guilty for betraying her, and Blackbeard, even if it meant helping his mother and receiving his heart’s desire.

“Circe may be Queen of the Dead, but I am her mother, and those treasures belonged to me, not Circe and not Blackbeard, and I shall do with them what I will. Never mind Circe; she can’t give you what you truly want. Now go. Off to Never Land, and right back with Tinker Bell, then you can start living the life you always dreamed of,” said Lucinda, smiling.

James took a deep breath as he stood in front of his mirror and admired his outfit again. His hair had become much longer during his time with Blackbeard, and he had grown a dandy mustache that was long and pointed. He only needed one more thing to make his outfit complete: his gold boot buckles. The ones Blackbeard had given him. They did make him feel fearful when he held them in his hands, but he missed Blackbeard, and felt by wearing them he was bringing him along on this important journey.

“Blackbeard said you didn’t curse the boot buckles, is that true?” he asked, taking them out of his pocket.

“I vow to you on the spirits of my sisters we didn’t curse those boot buckles,” she said. Before he could ask anything else, her image vanished from the mirror.

When he put them on he felt the same foreboding as when Blackbeard had given him the precious gift. He felt fearful. He took a deep breath, and looked down at his boot buckles, and was overcome by a surge of panic that was so strong he wanted to smash the vial of pixie dust. He didn’t understand exactly what it was he was feeling. It seemed like an instinct—something deep within him telling him he was making a mistake, that he needed to abandon this trip. Then he remembered Blackbeard’s words:

“Realizing one’s dreams can be a terrifying venture, for fear they don’t meet one’s expectations.”